A Shaft of Light
by LiechLiet
Summary: Sometimes all it takes is a shaft of light from the right direction to make the whole world seem brighter. / AU, NorFin


**A Shaft of Light  
**A Finland x Norway fic  
_Recommended listening: 30 Minutes by t.A.T.u_

* * *

The room is relatively dark – light filters from the rest of the gallery through an archway, but everyone's eyes are on the screen. Seahorses float there, and a voice tells the story of the secret life of these creatures.

The two benches are sparsely filled with a couple of university-age art students, who watch the film with polite interest. Only one viewer sits alone. His name is Tino Väinämöinen, and he is slumped against the wall, knees drawn up to his chest, tears cold on his eyelashes.

He lets out a shaky breath as the film draws to a close. Two of the art students are whispering, heads close – a boy and a girl. Are they together, Tino wonders morosely. How long will it be until one decides to break up with the other?

Thoughts like this don't help. His eyes pool with tears again, and he presses the sleeve of his hoodie against his face to stifle a sob.

The screen goes black. The art students leave.

Lukas Johansson steps into the dim partition, sees the curled up figure, and his interest is piqued. The Tate Modern is an odd place to have a nervous breakdown, after all.

"Excuse me."

Tino looks up, startled. A man in standing over him – possibly a year older than him, maybe two. He is wearing a long, navy coat that speaks of times past, and a scarf wrapped around his slender, pale neck.

He is attractive, and instantly Tino feels horrible for thinking that way when he hasn't been single for more than two days.

"What are you doing?" The voice is low, but not deep, and soft. So similar to the familiar rumble Tino is used to, but so different that a tear slips unbidden down the Finnish boy's cheek. He quickly wipes it away and smiles a wobbly smile.

"Sorry if I disturbed you." His voice catches in the middle of the sentence.

"That's not what you're doing."

"I –" Tino took a breath. "I just broke up with my… uh… partner." The word sounds so ridiculous coming from the mouth of an eighteen-year-old, but Tino doesn't know this guy and can't predict the reaction he'll receive.

The spark of understanding is unreadable in Lukas' eyes, but the Norwegian knows it's there. He sits down beside the younger male and pushes his satchel to the side.

After all, if the boy was straight he would have just said 'girlfriend'.

"He dumped you?" He should have guessed, really. The skinny jeans, the shiny, well-kept mop of straw-coloured hair. At the look of momentary shock he is given, Lukas realises that, of course, the two of them are complete strangers.

"Lukas Johansson," he introduces himself. "I'm gay."

"Tino Väinämöinen." Tino's lips manage to twist into an imitation of a friendly smile. "I'm also gay. And no, he didn't dump me. I dumped him."

Lukas frowns, head tilting as he processes what Tino has just said. "If _you_ broke up with _him_, why are _you_ sitting here like a broken toy?"

Tino lets out a chuckle of disbelief at the bluntness of the statement. "So just because I ended it, I'm not allowed to feel bad?" he asks almost accusingly. Lukas puts his hands up, although his expression remains unchanged.

"I didn't mean it as an insult. It's just unusual."

"I suppose." Tino rests his head back against the wall. The hood of his jumper presses against the back of his neck. The words _Tino van Gogh _are printed across the back of the turquoise garment, a reminder of his second year of Art GCSE, when all the art pupils got a hoodie with the name of a famous artist on it.

He remembers how Ivan fought him tooth and nail for van Gogh. The Russian boy loved sunflowers, the famous blooms of van Gogh's paintings, but somehow Tino had managed to get the name.

Maybe it's mental imbalance, he thinks with a silent, self-depreciating laugh, that links him and the Dutch artist.

"How old are you?" The question comes like the caress of a warm hand – unexpected, but not unwelcome. Lukas is watching him with barely-disguised curiosity. "Fifteen, sixteen?"

"Eighteen," Tino replies with a hint of reproach.

"You have a baby face," Lukas tells him, and Tino doesn't know whether he's serious or not. "I thought you were younger."

"You have an angelic face, but that doesn't mean you're necessarily an angel."

There is a beat of silence, before Tino flushes with embarrassment.

"That was totally out of line, I'm so –"

"Forget it." No matter what he's saying, Lukas's utterance doesn't sound like a command. More like... an invitation. Or is it his tone that's inviting? "So, you're in sixth form. Why aren't you there now?"

"I wasn't up to it this morning. This is one of my favourite places, so I decided to come here."

"Ah, an artist."

"I wish," sighs Tino. "I'm doing my Art A-Level in the summer, but I don't have any talent." His theme is abstract. He has neither the patience nor the prodigy for anything else than the vaguest of artistic movements.

Lukas gives him a long look. "Don't trivialise yourself like that," he says quietly. For some reason, the words sink a lot deeper than Tino wants to admit, and the Finn feels the blush that was just about receding from his cheeks come back with a vengeance.

For some reason, Lukas looks almost smug.

"Have some coffee with me," the Norwegian offers, after a second of thought as to whether it's overstepping the mark, what he's asking. Finding no faults, he continues, "to take your mind off things."

Lukas stands up, brushing down his trousers, then holds out a hand to help Tino up. The Finn gladly takes it, their fingers interlocking, and suddenly they both feel a spark. A spark of what, they don't know, but something.

* * *

"Berwald loved me so much, and I _did_ love him," Tino says as he stirs his cappuccino, his chin resting on his other palm, "but his love was so… _heavy_."

They sit in a warm, coffee-scented café off the high street, against a window covered with small droplets of rain. The January sky is bleak, but they are protected together inside.

The Finn has cheered up considerably since they left the gloom of the seahorse room. His eyes are dry, his smile is a little more real, and he talks without hesitation – about himself, and asking Lukas about his own life.

Lukas likes this change. It makes him feel… good.

"What do you mean, _heavy_?"

Tino sighs. "I think _intense_ is a better word. He was always by my side, protecting me and loving me. It made me feel special, but it also made me feel… inadequate, you know? I could never love him as much as he loved me! I mean, physically, it was impossible!"

"_Physically?_" Lukas quirks an eyebrow at his companion, smirking ever so slightly. His words have the desired effect; Tino goes as red as a cherry.

"Not like that! I mean… ah, you're sneaky." He narrows his eyes in mock-irritation at the Norwegian, who merely shrugs and takes a sip of his coffee.

"So you didn't sleep with him?"

Tino splutters his drink all over the table.

"You did _not_ just ask that!" he exclaims, staring at Lukas, completely dumbfounded. He has the expression of the person who doesn't know whether a joke has just been told and is waiting for the cry of 'just joking!' before he laughs. But Lukas isn't going to say that, because he is deadly serious.

Well, no, he isn't. He just likes messing with people.

"Okay… I'm just going to pretend you didn't say anything," Tino chuckles nervously, taking another sip of coffee. "Tell me something about yourself! What kind of music do you like?"

* * *

An hour later, Tino is laughing, chattering away like he hasn't done for two whole days. Him and Lukas get on really, really well, he thinks happily as they stand outside on the grey street, the smell of rain in the air and clinging to the coats of the people around them.

"Will you be able to reach home safely?" Lukas asks, pulling a hat out of his bag and putting it on. It's a sailor-style cap, blue with a navy-and-white trim around the bottom that nestles in the Norwegian's silky hair perfectly.

"Of course! It's a short train ride."

"You have my number." Lukas locks his gaze, that heady ultramarine gaze, onto Tino's own blue-violet eyes, and the Finn feels his heart quicken just a little. "I hope to see you soon."

"I hope so too!" After a moment's hesitation, Tino leans forward and brushes his lips against Lukas's cheek in the chastest of kisses.

Lukas feels his heart thump in his chest.

"I'm not going to be your rebound," he murmurs, as Tino draws back, his cheeks pink.

"I don't want you to be my rebound," the Finn replies, smiling sweetly, if a little sadly. "I'll call you."

He moves past Lukas, continuing down the street on his way to the Tube station, but before he is out of earshot Lukas calls, "Not if I dial first,", managing to sound completely nonchalant.

Tino flashes him a grin over his shoulder before he disappears around a corner, and Lukas is left alone, his heart thrumming like a bird in flight.

* * *

**Please review with your thoughts and comments!**

**Oh my word, I feel so guilty. SuFin is my OTP, and even after writing this I don't adore it any less. But NorFin is sneaking up the league table here...**

**Secondly, present tense, gosh.**

**Thirdly, why am I not updating 'The Finn at Hogwarts', which is a SuFin fic aaaargh.**

**This will also be posted on my Tumblr, zuckerkussen dot tumblr dot com.**

**I don't own the cover image.**

**Thanks for reading!**


End file.
